


Unexpected

by FierceOfMind



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, all of them - Freeform, except newt, sorry about the ending, that's your only warning, they know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FierceOfMind/pseuds/FierceOfMind
Summary: The one thing Newt didn’t expect about his return trip to New York was Percival Graves. He’d known from letters with Tina and Queenie that they’d found the Director in an expanded drawer in his office, and that all of MACUSA had been in an uproar. He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when he came face to face with the real Mr. Graves. And yet…





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> So, I meant for this to be a short one-shot but I had so much fun writing it that the fic went waaaay longer than I thought it would. Unfortunately, when I read back over all of it I was like 'I hate it'. And I really, kinda do. However, I spent about a week on this, and I'm not going to discard it so here it is: 14 and a half pages. The complete, finished one-shot "Unexpected."

The one thing Newt didn’t expect about his return trip to New York was Percival Graves. He’d known from letters with Tina and Queenie that they’d found the Director in an expanded drawer in his office, and that all of MACUSA had been in an uproar. He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when he came face to face with the real Mr. Graves. And yet…

He felt bad his first thought was that he didn’t understand how no one had been able to tell the difference between Grindelwald and the real thing. The Director seemed much more serious, and (pardon the pun) much more grave, but maybe his behavior now was a side effect of being held captive by the greatest dark lord since Morgan LeFay.

Either way, when he first ran into the Director of Magical Security while visiting Tina at MACUSA Newt could admit he was a bundle of nerves. It could have been the memory of that face ordering his execution. Or it could have been the dirty, rotten thief held securely in the shorter man’s hands.

“Mr. Scamander,” he said once he had Newt’s attention. Tina gave a quiet _eep_ and seemed to be seriously contemplating diving under her desk. The room went quiet. All the Aurors not out in the field turning to watch. Newt’s face reddened even as Mr. Graves continued speaking.

“I believe you were told on your last… visit to keep a handle on your creatures.”

“Er, right. Yeah,” he said snatching the niffler from the Director’s hands to the audible gasps of everyone else in the room. “Sorry about that. He incorrigible.”

Refusing to look at the man in front of him Newt upended the little trouble maker and began to tickle its pouch. To his surprise the only thing that fell out was a bright, silver pocket watch. It seemed as if the entire room stared as the watch stopped just before hitting the floor and floated over to Director Graves.

“I’ll trust you to get better control over your creatures, Mr. Scamander,” the director said into the stiff silence of the Auror department. Hazel eyes drifted over to the case at Newt’s side as the magizoologist dropped a wriggling niffler inside, “Or a better lock.”

Newt stayed frozen as the director turned sharply on his heel gaze causing a ripple of movement as the Aurors rushed to look busy. He didn’t relax until the other man had returned to his office.

“Mercy Lewis,” he heard Tina whisper, and he couldn’t help but agree.

“He hates me,” Newt sighed, not that he was surprised. Most people found him annoying at best.

“I don’t think that’s—,” she glanced between Mr. Graves office and Newt, “never mind. Let’s just go get lunch.”

Newt was only too happy to follow her. Though they tried to be discrete he could feel the glances of all the Aurors watching him.

-[XXXX]-

If that had been the end of his interactions with Percival Graves Newt would have spent the rest of his time with MACUSA at ease, but it wasn’t. No matter what he did Niffler got out again, and again, and again. After the third time it became a running joke to the Auror department much to his embarrassment.

On the fifth occasion Newt had managed to spot the thief and chase after him to the laughter of Tina’s colleges. In one last dramatic dive he managed to get his hands around the little beast.

“Gotcha,” he crowed in triumph even as the niffler gave him an adorable pout. It was at that moment he noticed the sudden silence of the room and he realized there was a pair of polished black shoes in front of him. With dread he lifted his gaze up into the face of MACUSA’s Director of Magical Security.

The man looked down at him and Newt could swear that time seemed to stretch before the man smiled—an honest to Merlin smile! He could feel the air pressure in the room drop as each Auror inhaled in shock.

“Good catch, Mr. Scamander,” the director said, and then he was gone the door to his office quietly clicking shut.

Whispers immediately broke out as Newt struggled to his feet. He seemed to be in a daze, and only peripherally noticed the Aurors glancing in his direction.

Three months in New York and that was the first time he’d seen Percival Graves smile.

-[XXXX]-

He was sitting on Tina’s desk trying not to be a bother while he waited for her to finish a report on an hippogriff smuggling case he’d helped her with. He’d had plenty of experience with smugglers while he was traveling the world researching for his book, and he knew Tina had really appreciated his help.

The Aurors managed to capture all the criminals while he had gone in and rescued the hippogriffs. It had broken his heart to see half of them already dead, bodies cut apart for potions ingredients. The other half were in a poor way. They barely moved at his approach and Newt had to spend several hours in his case just to stabilize them.

In the end he’d only lost one, and the others would make eventual recoveries. He’d made plans to release them to the care of his mother once they were all better. She’d been breeding them for years and he knew she would take good care of them. At that moment his thoughts were broken, not by Tina saying she was finished but by a Mouse Memo crawling up his leg. It unfolded as soon as he grabbed it.

Tina’s head popped up from her report at the crinkle of parchment, but her brows furrowed when she noticed her friends pallor.

“Newt? What’s wrong,” she asked standing from her desk.

Newt also slowly stood, “Madame President wants to see me immediately.” He gulped, “It doesn’t say why.”

Now Tina went pale looking at the magizoologist in concern, “Do you want me to go with you?”

He was sorely tempted to agree but one glance at the pile of paperwork his friend still had to do stopped him.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own,” he said. His fingers were twitching with nerves causing the memo in his hand to crease loudly.

She didn’t look like she believed him but still retook her seat, “Alright. I should be done when you get back, and then we can go to lunch.”

“Hotdogs?” He asked trying to ease some of his nerves.

“Of Course!” Tina replied attempting to smile. It didn’t really reach her eyes.

He gave a smile which he was sure was more of a grimace and then hurriedly made his way towards the president’s office.

The door to Picquery’s office was solid oak, stained black with the golden emblem of MACUSA on the center. Newt anxiously nodded to the secretary as he passed her desk. She gave him a distracted acknowledgement before turning back to her work. He took a fortifying breath and knocked, his knuckles rasping lightly against the wood.

“Enter, Mr. Scamander,” came Madame Picquery’s cool voice. He wiped his hands on his trousers before grasping the golden doorknob and pushing his way into the president’s office.

The first thing he noticed was the black marble floor before a deep chuckle caused his gaze to snap up and meet the amused visage of Mr. Graves.

“Relax, Mr. Scamander… Newt. You’re not in trouble,” the director said. The use of his first name shocked the magizoologist enough to stumble the rest of the way into the room.

Picquery gave the Director a knowing look before turning back to the nervous Englishman.

“Indeed, Mr. Scamander, you are in no trouble,” she said gesturing to one of the armchairs in front of her desk.

Newt took a seat and regretted it as soon as he sat down. The two people before him now loomed over him in what he swore was an ominous manner. He fixed his gaze on the tapestry behind the president’s desk, another Seal of MACUSA.

“Mr. Scamander,” Madame Picquery patiently called and he forced himself to stare at spot on her forehead, “I have called you here today to ask about your plans.”

“My plans?” Newt questioned, confused.

“Yes,” she responded. “Your plans for the coming months, even years.”

“Oh, well,” he said a bit startled. “I will be returning to England in a few weeks,” Newt babbled, wondering why the President of MACUSA cared about his future plans.

Mr. Graves made a weird noise which Newt was too stressed to decipher but which caused Madame Picquery to shoot her director a quelling look. The dark haired man ignored her and made to open his mouth, but Newt continued speaking cutting off the director in the hopes of avoiding trouble.

“I’ll be handing the hippogriffs that were saved from that smuggling ring over to my mother. She breeds them in Europe you see and will know how to care for them. They’ll be well enough to travel in two, maybe three weeks.”

He was starting to babble, he knew but couldn’t get himself to stop. Experience told him that at any moment he’d be cut off for being too annoying, but still like Niffler after Mr. Graves’s pocket watch he kept going.

“After that I don’t really know. There’s been talk of making another edition of my book, but that’s a few years away. Um. My mum will probably rope me into helping out at the homestead for a while. Otherwise, I don’t think—”

“Thank you Mr. Scamander,” President Picquery calmly cut him off. This time it was Mr. Graves who shot her a quelling look which she in turn ignored, “That is all I needed to know.”

She made a gesture towards the Director which appeared to be all the signal the other man needed. Mr. Graves stepped towards Newt seeming oddly eager.

“I—I mean—MACUSA, would like to hire you as a consultant on cases and issues related to magical creatures. You would get paid and provided an apartment. Here. In New York.”

The director was staring intently at his face and for a moment Newt wondered if there was dirt smudged on it (it wouldn’t be the first time). Finally the other man’s words sunk in.

“I would love to,” he said before biting his lip, “but I can’t accept.” He ignored Mr. Graves’s crestfallen look sure he was imagining things. “My rescues sometimes cause me to need to leave for weeks at a time as I search for a safe place to release them—”

“That’s alright,” the director interrupted him causing President Picquery to give a small cough of amusement. Both men ignored her too focused on each other. “We are more than willing to make allowances for necessary absences, but you would be expected to spend the majority of your time here.”

As the realization of what was being offered sunk in Newt felt a smile break out over his face. He would get to stay with Tina and Queenie, and watch over Jacob and his bakery. He would have a chance to save so many creatures, and maybe, he dared to hope, help rewrite some of MACUSA’s procedures and laws towards magical creatures. There might not be another Credence, but he would use this chance to make sure what had happened to the Obscurial boy was never repeated.

His gaze met those of a suddenly red-faced Director of Magical Security. “Well then. I gladly accept,” he said.

“Excellent,” President Picquery clapped causing both men to jump having forgotten she was there. “I’ll have legal draw up a contract. Now if you’ll excuse us, Mr. Scamander. Mr. Graves and I have some things to discuss.”

Newt didn’t need telling twice. He got up and quickly vacated the office paying no mind to the president’s amused expression nor the director’s miffed one. He would have to tell the Goldstein sisters as soon as possible so they could celebrate. Tina and Queenie would be so happy to hear the news!

-[XXXX]-

The Aurors of MACUSA were happy to welcome him as an official part of their team. Though he had his own desk in the Body for Protection of Magical Species which was similar to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Newt spent most of his time in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Everyone would greet him warmly and even Director Graves would stop to spare a quick word for him. Auror Fontaine who was considered the most laid back and was the loudest when it came to complaining about paperwork had once joked that he spent so much time in their department that he should move his desk.

“Oh, I wish,” Newt replied before quickly backtracking. “Not that the BPMS is bad it’s just so quiet there. That department isn’t nearly as lively as you guys, and most all my friends are here.”

His words were followed by catcalls and Fontaine slinging an arm around his shoulders, “Aw, Newton we love you too.”

He turned red in embarrassment but was saved from responding by Director Graves coming out of his office. The man’s glare fell immediately on them and he made his way over scattering all the Aurors.

“Fontaine,” Mr. Graves growled and something in the director’s voice must have alarmed the other Auror because he released Newt as if he burned.

“B-boss this ain’t what it looks like,” Fontaine said raising his hands in surrender. Newt wondered what the fun-loving man had done to earn Director Graves’s ire. Fontaine was becoming more panicked the longer his boss stood and glared at him.

“I was just telling Newt here that he should move his desk up with us. Seeing as he spends so much time in the department, Sir,” MACUSA’s most laid back Auror reached his hand out as if to put it on Newt’s shoulder before snatching it away.

“It seems to me,” the irate director said, “that you are standing here goofing off instead of working on the Lockstead report. Which I expect on my desk before lunch.”

“But Boss,” Fontaine whined, “that’s—”

Somehow Mr. Graves’s face became more stern and the other Auror trailed off with a simple, “I’ll get right on it,” before practically running to his desk.

The director’s glare then turned to the other Aurors who had been milling about, “Don’t you all have work to do?”

MACUSA’s finest jumped as if shocked before scrambling to their desks. Director Graves watched them for a moment before storming out of the department towards the President’s office.

Newt turned to Tina who was just taking her seat after having dived under her desk at the appearance of Mr. Graves on a warpath.

“I guess I should return to the BPMS,” he said apologetically. He hadn’t meant to distract his friends from their work and get them in trouble.

Alarm spread over her features, “No, Newt—”

“It’s fine, Tina,” he cut her off. “I don’t want to distract you all from your work. I need to check on my creatures anyway, ” he said pointing to his ever present case.

Newt quickly made his leave only to bump into none other than Director Graves right outside the department.

“Mr. Scamander,” he said, surprised. “My apologies I had left some paperwork in the office. In my rush I guess I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Graves,” the magizoologist responded, “I was just leaving to feed my creatures.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Please don’t be too mad at Auror Fontaine. It’s my fault for being so distracting.”

The director seemed caught off guard, “No! That’s not—”

“Don’t worry,” Newt said not really wanting to hear false platitudes. He’d been told plenty of times how disrupting his presence was and there was no reason for Director Graves to struggle with assuring him otherwise. Even if he was only being polite. “I know I’m not the best at maintaining a professional atmosphere, and um… I’ll try to stay at my desk more often so your Aurors will be able to work.”

The director seemed about to say something, expression alarmed, but a flash of black over the other man’s shoulder caught Newt’s attention. For a split second his eyes met the smug expression of Niffler before it disappeared around the corner.

“Excuse me,” the British man exclaimed, brushing past Mr. Graves. “I really have to uh… I really have to feed my creatures.”

Newt had already forgotten about the conversation by the time he’d caught the little bugger. Exhausted from the chase which ended up spanning the entirety of the Woolworth building he decided to return to his apartment early all call it a day.

The next morning Newt walked into the BPMS to find his desk missing. When he asked none of his co-workers in the department knew what was going on. Thinking it was a prank (having a bit of experience as the victim of those) the magizoologist made his way up to the Auror department to see if Tina would let him hang around there until his desk was found.

He felt a bit bad walking into the Auror department knowing he had promised the director he wouldn’t bother them as much only to freeze at the sight of a new desk directly in front of Mr. Graves’s office.

Newt looked around only to see Tina wasn’t in yet and the other Aurors were all apparently busy. His curiosity getting the better of him the magizoologist made his way over to get a closer look. It took a moment for what he was seeing to sink in.

It was his desk!

Auror Fontaine’s laughter filled voice cut through his surprise, “Oh, man, Newt! I didn’t think you’d actually move your desk up here.”

“But I didn’t,” Newt replied feeling confused.

“I had it moved,” came an easily recognizable voice. Both Fontaine and the magizoologist turned around to see Mr. Graves standing behind them with a smug expression on his face before it turned into something more serious. “It is my belief that you will better be able to consult us on cases if you are closer at hand, Mr. Scamander.”

Auror Fontaine was overcome with a coughing fit that sounded oddly like laughter, but Newt’s concern was quickly overridden by his bafflement.

“But what about the other Aurors,” he asked in concern. “I don’t want to distract them from their work.”

“If my Aurors find your presence too distracting,” Director Graves said glaring around the department at said Aurors who were busy not looking in their general vicinity, “then perhaps a couple of classes on remedial basics will remind them how to maintain proper focus.”

The man now turned his gaze back to Newt, “You are an important member of our team Mr. Scamander, and it is vital that you have a place in our department.” Suddenly Mr. Graves seemed uncertain and a bit of nervousness appeared in his eyes, “That is—I mean—so long as the move is okay with you.”

Newt knew he was beaming, but at the moment he didn’t care, “It’s perfectly alright, Mr. Graves.”

“Percival,” the director suddenly said, for some reason looking a bit dazed. “You can call me Percival.”

He thought it was impossible to be this happy, “Then I insist you call me Newt.”

“And you can call me Theodard,” Fontaine suddenly butt in, looping an arm around Newt’s shoulders. “I’m the fifth of that name you know.”

“Fontaine,” Mr. Gra—Percival growled no longer looking dazed, “I’m still waiting on that Lockstead report from yesterday. I want it on my desk within the hour or you’ll be in remedial class with the trainees for a month!”

“Aw, Boss, I thought you was joking about that report,” the Auror immediately released Newt and rushed back to his desk still managing to complain the whole way.

Amid the ruckus of Auror Fontaine rifling through his desk came a not so quiet giggle from the entrance of the department, “Oh, my.”

Newt turned and saw Tina and Queenie standing in the entryway. The younger Goldstein was looking between him and Percival in amusement while her sister bore an exasperated expression.

“Oh, don’t worry, sir,” Queenie said in response to something only she could hear. “You’re secret is safe with me.”

She gave Percival a wink before turning to the brit, “I only came to give these to Newt. They’re his favorite.”

She held up a little white bag which he happily rushed forward to take. It was from Jacob’s bakery and the smell was divine. Realizing he’d forgotten to eat breakfast Newt quickly reached in and pulled out a niffler shaped pastry. He took a big bite and didn’t even try to stop the embarrassingly loud moan that escaped him.

Queenie let out a little laugh though she was looking at something over his shoulder, and Tina just seemed to be looking for the nearest desk to hide under. Not that Newt cared at the moment, he was too busy eating Jacob’s finest.

Reading his thoughts the blonde gave a loud _tisk_ , “Really Newt, you shouldn’t skip meals. Skinny as you are its not healthy. Someone will have to watch and make sure you don’t go passing out from forgetting to eat.”

She said the last part rather loudly causing Newt to duck his head (though he didn’t stop eating, and instead started on the second niffler in the bag). Tina’s hissed, “Queenie,” wasn’t as quiet as she hoped and only made things worse.

Queenie Goldstein ignored all this with the experience of a pro before giving one last smile to the Auror department at large and leaving.

Tina only shook her head in exasperation before turning her attention to the magizoologist who was just finishing his breakfast.

“Well Newt, not that I’m not happy to see you, but you don’t usually stop by until later,” she tailed off looking at him expectantly.

Newt found himself beaming as he told her what exactly Percival had done.

-[XXXX]-

Being in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement felt like coming home for Newt. The Aurors welcomed him with open arms. There were no sneers or snide remarks about how he’d never measure up to his brother. Not that he didn’t love him, and admire his accomplishments, but it was nice to find a place away from his brother’s hero worship.

Hands down Newt would have to say the best part of his move was Percival. The other man was always checking on Newt. Making sure he’d eaten, asking the brit to join him for lunch when it was discovered he’d forgotten, again. The director even occasionally helped with Newt’s creatures not at all hesitating to get dirt on the expensive suits he wore.

It took a while for the magizoologist to figure out what was going on, but in his defense he’d always been more capable of reading creatures than people. Actually he didn’t even figure things out on his own. Tina, in a fit of frustration had explained things with a put upon expression. Newt hadn’t believed her at first, but then Queenie had agreed, and so did the rest of the Aurors. To his embarrassment they’d had a betting pool going, and had lightly ribbed Tina for messing with the outcome.

He’d avoided Percival out of sheer embarrassment for two days. Newt probably would have run away for longer if the man himself hadn’t tracked him down with desperation and asked what he’d done wrong. The details were blurry after that. All Newt could recall was kissing. A lot of it.

And so they were official.

He should have seen it coming. Nothing good ever lasted in his life. The way things had gone with Leta—well the less said about that the better.

It all started with a series of attacks.

“Director Graves, we’ve got another one,” Fontaine came rushing into the department uncharacteristically serious.

Newt watched as Percival grit his teeth in frustration. This would make the sixth attack in the last four months. People were panicking and every Auror in the department had been taped to help investigate.

He desperately wished he could help, but as he’d discovered with the first victim these were not creature attacks. A dark wizard was plaguing New York. Percival had given him strict orders not to get involved. It had only been the naked fear in the directors eyes at the time which made him agree.

“Are you sure it’s the same as the others,” Percival asked, not even glancing at Fontaine, but instead focusing on the reports in front of him.

Fontaine was not upset probably recognizing the amount of stress his boss was under (the whole department was feeling it too). The Auror only sighed glancing down at his notes, “Caucasian Female. 32. Brought into the Jauncey-Lewis Hospital at eight this morning. It was the brother that found her. Said she was just lying on the ground. He discovered her on the route she usually takes every day. I’ve  got some of the others canvassing for witnesses. Nothing yet.”

Fontaine paused a moment to flip to another page of notes before continuing in the same solemn demeanor as before, “Healers reported no outward injuries. She was asleep, just like the rest of them. Though scans show an increase in dreamscape activity compared to the others; however, the increase was much larger than it’s been when comparing the previous victims.”

“Dammit,” Percival swore, slamming his fist on his desk. Newt looked up from the paperwork he was pretending to be looking over in concern. Things must be worse than he thought if the director was swearing.

Fontaine watched on face remaining impassive. Newt could hardly recognize him as the fun-loving, easy-going Auror he’d gotten to know. Finally, once Percival had calmed down some he continued, “I say, whoever this is, is up to something. Something big.”

Percival leaned over his desk to listen and even Newt stopped pretending not to eavesdrop.

The senior Auror took a deep breath before sharing his theory, “The Healers report that whatever curse he’s using is changing each time. It’s taking them longer and longer to create a counter curse. This last victim. The woman. She’s still in the hospital. They think they won’t be able to wake her til the day after tomorrow, maybe even longer.”

Here Fontaine looked dead into the directors eyes, “I think what’s causing the problem is the dreamscape activity. The higher it is, the longer it takes to wake the people up. This last woman, she was almost at 100%. The healer I talked to said that if it had been 100% they probably never would have had the chance to waken her.”

Percival finally seemed to cotton on to whatever the other Auror was getting at. “He’s been experimenting,” the director said with widening eyes, “trying to perfect his curse.”

Fontaine nodded solemnly, “My thoughts exactly, Boss. And I think he’s almost finished it. When he does, this dark wizard’s going to make his big play. These people? They’ve just been practice. There’s a real target out there somewhere, and this wizard don’t mean for them to wake up.”

This time Percival swore loud and long, “President Picquery needs to be informed immediately.”

With a wave of his hand all the case notes stacked themselves into a neat pile. Percival gathered them up and turned to Fontaine, “Return to the hospital. See if you can get anything definitive on your theory about the dreamscape.”

The senior Auror snapped off a sharp salute before rushing out of the department leaving Percival and Newt alone. The other man walked over to the magizoologist and leaned over until they were touching foreheads, practically sharing air.

“Newt, I want you to go to my apartment and wait there,” when the brit went to protest Percival gave him a searing kiss before pulling away to stare deeply into his eyes, “ _please_.”

It was that last please that broke Newt’s resolve and he silently nodded his head. The director gave a sigh of relief before straightening up, “I’ll come home as soon as I’ve finished with Madame Picquery.”

He hurried out of the room leaving Newt to stare anxiously at his back before the magizoologist cleaned off his desk and picked up his case. He knew if he went to Percival’s apartment he’d end up worrying for however long it took the director to come home, but he also felt that he would just be in the way if he tried to stay and help.

It was a few blocks away from the Woolworth building before Newt was able to apparate. He had just started to turn on his heel when red enveloped him and he knew no more.

-[XXXX]-

Newt awoke to find himself chained to a wall. Facing a simple wooden door. The first thing he did, after checking that yes he really was chained to a wall, was look for his case, but to his despair it was nowhere to be found. He glanced down at the pocket of his blue coat and became even more anxious when he realized that Pickett was also missing.

Suddenly laughter echoed around the room and from a corner Newt would swear was empty just a moment before there stepped a woman. She had limp, dirty blonde hair and though the shadows made it difficult he could just make out the blue of her eyes. There was a disturbing light in them which immediately set the brit on edge.

“Don’t worry about your case, sweetie. It’s perfectly fine. I left it somewhere for your darling director to find,” She sent him a cruel smile as a fanatic air surrounded her. “I’m sure once he picks it up and sees my Lord’s sign he’ll come to realize exactly the danger you’re in, and like the gallant hero, rush to save you. I was even kind enough to show him where to go.”

Dread filled Newt’s heart. Dread and fear, “You’re one of Grindelwald’s followers,” he exclaimed before coming to another horrifying realization, “this is a trap!”

The woman clapped, leaning down until her face was right in Newt’s. There was something sickeningly sweet on her breath that made he want to gag.

“Very good, sweetie,” she said lifting a hand to caress his face.

He tried to jerk his head back but she grabbed his hair in a harsh grip holding him still, “My Lord gave me very specific instructions, for a very specific mission, and I’ve been practicing for months to get everything. Just. Right.”

Suddenly she was crouched beside him so they were both staring towards the door as the sounds of distant fighting began. Her wand jabbed harshly into his neck even as Newt made one final connection.

“You!” He cried, trying in vain to free himself. “You’re the one who’s been cursing people. Experimenting.”

The woman gave a throaty chuckle right next to his ear making the brit shiver, “Right again. Aren’t you a smart one. It’s just too bad…”

She trailed off as the noise of combat appeared right outside the closed door. Her body was shaking with pent up eagerness, and Newt just wished more than anything for this all to be a dream.

The door gave a violent heave but stayed close.

“You’ll never make it out of this alive,” Newt said trying to reason with the woman, but she was beyond all care.

“Yes, yes. I know,” she said as the door shuddered again. The fanaticism in her voice only increased with each blow against the wood, “But I will complete my Lords task, and when he gains mastery over all, even Death, I will be the first one he recalls to his service.”

Finally, the door gave in and the woman cast a shield charm over them to protect against the shrapnel. Standing in the doorway like the grim reaper himself was Percival Graves. His face was cut by harsh lines of rage, but as soon as he registered what was in front of him anger bled away into concern.

“Newt!”

“Percival,” Newt cried in fear as the woman raised her wand.

She didn’t turn it on the director though, she turned it on Newt.

Those last moments for Newt seemed to stand still. He watched as Percival’s face filled with horror and fear even as his wand began to glow a deadly green. He knew the other man would be too late and watched as a grey, smoky spell left the woman’s wand and washed over him.

Her last words echoed in the room even as green spell fire consumed her, body collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Lord Grindelwald sends his regards.”

His entire world went black.

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-[XXXX]-

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Newt stared at the ceiling above him and wondered how he’d come to be here and where here was. It was a bright ceiling, he thought. White, clean. In the back of his mind something felt off like that feeling when you miss a step and your foot falls through air for longer than expected.

The sudden feeling of a hand holding his jerked Newt’s gaze from the too clean ceiling. What, or rather, who he saw made him smile. It was Percival looking relieved and yet concerned staring at him from a chair next to the bed he was laying on.

Several thoughts floated through his head and he struggled to grasp onto one. Finally he settled for a simple, “Hello.”

For a moment his voice jarred him. It resonated through his head while washing over his ears as if through deep water. It was odd.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Percival’s relieved exhale, “Newt. You had me so worried.”

The directors voice was strong and perfect. It distracted Newt for a moment before he managed to pull his errant thoughts into coherency.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, though it sounded more like a question.

Percival merely smiled at him. Newt thought it was slightly off, but his head felt so muddy.

When he focused his attention outward again there was a healer next to his bed. She was writing on a clipboard. Newt tried to take a peak but he couldn’t make anything out. It was his charts he decided.

He frowned. Why was he here he wondered. When he looked up Percival was the only one in the room again. The other man smiled and Newt forgot why he was concerned. Percival was here. He would keep him safe.

He frowned again. Why would Percival need to keep him safe? He looked up to ask, but a mouth on his stopped him. He kissed back on automatic, but something felt…

They separated but Percival held his hands in his, “The healer says you can come home now.”

Newt was distracted again. Home sounded nice. Away from here. The place with the clean ceilings.

He was in Percival’s apartment. Just standing in the living room when arms came around him from behind, “Welcome home.”

“Home,” he murmured. Again, that feeling. _Off_.

There before him on a table was his case. Alarm filled him. While he’d been in that other place who had cared for his creatures. Some of them were delicate. He should check on them. Had to check on them. Right now.

Percival took his hand and led him down, an adoring look on his face, “They’re fine. We’re fine. Everything will be okay.”

He held that hand and followed.

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-[XXXX]-

Sat in a chair beside a bed in a room with grey-almost-not-quite white ceilings a man clutched the hand of the person lying next to him as the healer gave him her news. _Thereisnothingwecando.Hesatonehundredpercentinthedreamscape.Atleasthesjustasleephedoesntappeartobehavinganightmare._ She left after giving the man one last condolence. For a while there was silence. Then the man who had fought in a world war, and been captured and tortured by a dark lord and never once shed a tear or begged or broke, he bent over and wept. Percival Graves clutched the limp hand of the man he loved.

_“Please. Newt. Love. Please…Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP. MY LOVE. PLEASE.”_

 

Newton Scamander laid still on the bed and dreamt.


End file.
